


Trailing Cosmic Dust

by ScribeOfRemedy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fan theory, Gen, POV First Person, Season 6 & 7 spoilers, Shiro as Kosmo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeOfRemedy/pseuds/ScribeOfRemedy
Summary: I keep expecting Keith to give me a name one of these days. After all, it’s usually the first order of business when one brings home an animal companion. Keith, however, seemingly has no intention of assigning one. He stubbornly sticks to boy with an occasional wolf or some variation. Maybe a name just isn’t something he feels is needed and whatever his reasons I find I don’t really mind so much. I’ve already got a name. Even if no one knows it, I’m still Shiro.Writing experiment with a fan theory that actually makes a scary amount of sense, based around the idea that Shiro was originally supposed to be reborn as Kosmo.





	Trailing Cosmic Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so, a good friend of mine showed me this post by ptw30 on tumblr theorizing that the writers had originally planed for Shiro to be reborn as Kosmo. It makes some really convincing points and while I am supper relieved we have Shiro as himself in human form again, the idea kinda got stuck in my brain and this happened. Anyway, I hope it's as fun to read as it was to write (maybe even a little more so).

This is it. This is the culmination of everything we’ve worked for, all the training, all the battles, all the suffering and lives lost – all for this moment. This will be the final blow to Zarkon. I know this truth like a promise imprinted on my racing heart. It’s almost scripted, the way all the paladins rally behind me, lending me their quintessence – their very life force – for one final assault, a last-ditch effort to save the universe. The fates of entire galaxies are riding on this one definitive strike. “This is our last chance. Let’s finish this!”

Together we move as one, unobstructed by our secrets, differences or fears. Our trust is absolute and our blade hits home, slicing into Zarkon’s side, but it’s not enough to stop the former Black Paladin. Abandoning his sword, Zarkon seizes the head of Voltron between his massive metal claws and tries to rip apart the connection between me and Black. Violet lightning – oh so similar to the magic of the druids – arcs and expands, making Black’s controls burn hot. It’s all I can do to hang on. But losing is not an option. So when the Black Lion asks for my bayard I don’t hesitate. The black bayard inserts perfectly just like it was always meant to and the blazing sword pierces straight through the armor of Zarkon’s killing machine, directly into the corrupted emperor himself.

That does it. We’ve won. I can vaguely recognize a victorious dissonance surging up within the link with the other paladins, but it’s faint and difficult to focus on. For some reason killing Zarkon doesn’t stop the horrible energy the Galran Emperor has been pouring into the Black Lion’s cockpit. In fact, it’s still building and so is the pain.

I try to call out, order the team to disengage. Maybe disassembling Voltron will diffuse the energy or at least spare the others from harm. But my voice sticks in my throat. I can’t make a sound, not a warning, not a cry for help. It’s like screaming into a void. Even the link’s gone silent; I can’t feel Voltron or the other paladins anymore. Did we disband already or maybe we lost power? I can’t see through the monitors, everything’s going dark.

At least the pain is fading. I try to reach for the controls, straining to place my hands on the living metal that’s gone cold. There’s so much more to do; I’m not ready to quit now. But my body’s sluggish and unresponsive. I can’t hold on. Thoughts are becoming slippery, lost in a nebulous of confusion and panic. It’s like I’m shutting down, losing parts of myself, fading away piece by piece. Oddly it doesn’t hurt, not exactly.

 _Black, what’s happening?_ There’s this sensation of wings wrapping around me, delicate feathers ghosting over my skin and closing me off from everything else like a cocoon. _Is this what it feels like to die?_

A dismayed roar is the last thing I hear before the connection cuts out. Then there’s nothing.

 

 

____________________________

 

 

Flying – or is this falling? I’m unmoored, adrift in the stars and coming down fast. Whatever held me silent and still is suddenly absent and I can finally open my eyes again. It hurts. Everything's fuzzy, like I’ve been trapped in darkness for too long and my eyes are struggling to readjust. My vision is tinted in the same luminescent, sky blue of Altean tech and there’s a trail of cosmic dust in my wake. It’s reminds me of flying with the Black Lion’s wings, soaring on the currents of space and time with impossible velocity and power, untamable.

It doesn’t last. I crash down in a forest of some kind on the back of what I can only describe as a giant space whale and despite leaving behind a sizable crater, the impact is surprisingly painless. Or maybe I’m just numb. That would explain why my legs don’t seem to want to cooperate when I try to stand, though it’s more alarming when I realize there are four of them and that they’re all covered in glossy, black fur. I don’t get long to ponder this new development before I’ve got company – and ugly company at that. The huge alien creatures that come to investigate my flashy landing look a freakish cross between a sentient plant monster and a crustacean nightmare; they skitter closer on green, crab-like legs. Their bodies are protected by a hard exoskeleton and long, sharp pincers extend from either side of their dome-shaped heads. On top of all that, the tentacles slithering eagerly around each of their circular maws probably mean they’re hungry. Clearly, it’s my lucky day.

There’s no time to stick around so I force myself up on wobbly limbs, but I barely get my feet under me before I hear more rustling from the foliage on the other end of the crash site. Feeling the beginnings of real panic, I cut my eyes toward the commotion, expecting I’ll find another predator looking for a convenient snack. But there’s no malformed creature worthy of night terrors come to sate its hunger. It’s just Keith. Somehow he’s found me. Nearly senseless with relief, it’s all I can do to stare after him as he works with a Galran woman to take care of the crab monsters.

It takes a bit for my brain to reboot but when it does it’s awfully clear that I must have missed some things. Keith’s not wearing his paladin armor for one. Instead he’s clothed in the Blade of Malmora uniform, wielding the runed sword in lieu of his bayard. What could have happened to make him leave Voltron? Where are the others? Is everyone okay? How long have I been gone?

As soon as Keith comes back for me I try to ask all of these questions but all I manage is a garbled whine. The noise startles me; that isn’t anywhere close to what I want to say.

Keith seems unconcerned, grinning down at me with that same soft-eyed look he once used to try and convince me to assist him in harboring a stray kitten inside the first-year Garrison dormitories. As if that isn’t weird enough he then straight up coos at me. “Hey there, little guy. What’s a good boy like you doing way out here?”

It’s so disconcerting to be talked down to like that – by Keith of all people – that I almost completely forget about the Galran. “Cosmic wolves are very rare; I didn’t realize they still existed.”

There’s some unspoken conversation between the two of them before they break apart, each going to gather up the remains of the crab monsters, the Galran easily hauling a whole carcass over one shoulder. In hindsight, the hostile aliens don’t seem quite so large in comparison to the woman’s tall frame. After they’ve grabbed everything Keith looks back and calls to me in that same gentle, cooing voice like I’m a dog or something. “Come on, boy.”

It suddenly becomes apparent to me that not only does Keith evidently not recognize me but is also under the impression that I’m some manner of puppy, and after a brief self-inspection, I can’t really say I blame him. My legs aren’t the only thing that’s changed. I’m now sporting shimmering, black fur embellished with white and electric blue markings. It’s going to be impossible to see the whole pattern without some kind of reflective surface but it’s clearly nothing you’d find on an animal from Earth. I can also tell my ears are longer; they sit on the top of my head now and twitch and rotate toward any noise I try to focus on. Oh, and it looks like I have a tail. I’m reasonably sure I’m not human anymore.

Thankfully Keith and the Galran seem pretty keen to have me come along with them and wait patiently for me to come to grips with my existential crisis and chase after them in a clumsy loop since moving has become a bit of a challenge. I feel like a newborn foal walking on stilts. I’m so focused on putting one paw in front of the other it doesn’t even occur to me that the sight of my now very small and furry body swaying drunkenly across the forest floor would be found humorous until Keith chuckles fondly from up ahead where he’s been watching me. It’d be more embarrassing if I wasn’t so close to freaking out.

Keith must fear I’ll fall behind or take pity on me because in the next few strides he’s easily scooping me off my feet and cradling me close to his chest with one arm. It’s hard not to feel strange being carried by the kid I used to tower over but it’s not the worst and the break is appreciated. Turns out relearning how to walk is exhausting.

That night Keith and the Galran he finally names as Krolia build a fire and cook the meat from the crab monsters. I still haven’t figured out the woman’s connection to Keith but at least she seems to be an ally for now. I start to suspect a maternal relationship between them shortly after getting more than a glimpse at Krolia’s face. She looks a lot like Keith.

I’m distracted from puzzling out all the possibilities when Keith starts shaving off smaller pieces from one of the carcasses and holds them out for inspection under my muzzle. Eating this way feels awkward but the faintly sweet scent is mouthwatering and makes the meat impossible to ignore. Keith’s smile is pleased when I take the offering between my teeth and start to chew.

Krolia claims the first watch and as I soon find myself curled up next to Keith in a small cave in an unknown, alien wilderness on the back of a space whale being watched over by a Galra warrior. I can’t help but think that there are worse ways to spend an afterlife.

 

____________________________

 

 

The dream-like phenomenon that lulls and swells with unpredictable cadence has been nothing if not confusing throughout the entire journey – and we are on a journey – I’ve figured out that much. It’s not too difficult to notice we’re headed toward the epicenter of this bizarre ecosystem of fantastic celestial bodies under siege by unstable gravity and flashes of bright waves of white, hot light that always herald more of the unsettling dream-visions. I keep catching snippets of being back with the team, flying the Black Lion and working with the collation just like everything used to be; it all feels right, except these visions aren’t right. Whatever I’m seeing, they’re not memories. I don’t have any recollection of the things I see. These are events that never happened while I was human. They’re more like grand delusions of what could have been – if I’d never died.

It’s after witnessing an Altean role playing game with remarkable similarities to Earth’s Dungeons and Dragons that I find myself forcibly dragged to the here and now with the plea _I want to be a paladin_ _again_ caught on lips that can no longer form the words. The not-memory doesn’t sit right with me, even in the bleary stages of leaving behind the lingering fog of sleep it doesn’t quite match up with how I feel I would have played the game. I know how to be a little more versatile than picking the same character class over and over again, and my character would most definitely have brought a torch. But the vision itself is not what woke me. No, it’s Keith.

The way he moans and curls into himself makes it clear he’s having a vision too and a far less pleasant one at that. It’s always been hard to hang back when Keith is hurting but approaching him in this state is little like getting close and cozy to a wounded rattlesnake, the slightest wrong move could set him off. Keith does not like to be touched especially when he’s out of it. Just when I start to wonder if there is even anything I can do for him, Keith whimpers, breath hitching in a mewl of emotional pain that stabs right through my heart and any doubts I might have had about intervening fly out the proverbial airlock. I can’t leave him alone like this. I’m small in this body but I try to take up as much of Keith’s side as I can, pressing against him in hopes of giving him some kind of anchoring point. At first Keith starts, coming out of the vision is a shock for him, but before I know what’s happening he’s fisting his hands in my fur and pulling me closer. The unexpected reaction causes me to lock up for a moment. All that contact sends an electric sensation tingling across my skin and makes my hair stand on end. Nobody’s touched me like this in so long and I can’t tell if the sudden longing is some side effect of this new body or a leftover from the isolation during my previous life. Either way it feels nice.

It’s silly, I try to tell myself. But it’s not, not really. Keith’s hugged me on rare occasions, sure. I’ve also gotten pats on the back and friendly brushes from the other paladins and Coran was always liberal with hardy slaps on the back. But this is different. I’m not sure if Keith is this accepting of the comfort because he thinks no one is watching and I’m just some dumb animal that can’t tell anyone or if something more has changed.

It doesn’t really matter I decide, because this right here is something I can still give. I only spend a moment lamenting the lack of actual arms to hug back with and instead butt my head up against Keith’s chest and press into his hold as much as I can. Thankfully it’s enough. Keith breathes an easy sigh of relief, eventually settling into a peaceful dose and the tension I didn’t know I was holding onto bleeds out of my stiff muscles, leaving me lying boneless in Keith’s lax grip.

It’s only after Keith is well and truly asleep again that I notice Krolia watching us. She looks sad but smiles warmly when she spots me looking her way, the yellow glow of her eyes softening. I realize she must see the same effect in my eyes – eyes so different from the ones I had – reflecting what ambient light exists within the cave, making them stand out sharply in the darkness.

Just one more change to get used to.

 

____________________________

 

 

One of the most irritating things about being considered an animal is that you get treated like a child _a lot_. And it’s not just the occasional baby talk either. The idea that I’m capable of doing anything helpful is completely dismissed. I can do perimeter checks all night long but it won’t earn Keith or Krolia a single extra wink of sleep because they’ll still get up and go do it themselves. They don’t think they can trust me with the job and possibly don’t even realize that’s what I’m doing. It’s annoying and leaves me feeling useless but it’s not like I can argue my case with them, so instead I start tagging along with them. I shadow them on patrols, run with them on hunts and just sit with them sometimes to watch the ever changing, heavenly scenery slowly float on by. It’s a peaceful life, one that really conflicts with my restless nature. I can’t easily switch off years and years of admittedly a bit of an unhealthy work ethic just because there’s nothing I can do. It’s a challenge to adjust and I can tell the new pace works on Keith’s nerves at times too. Being stuck in this type of environment calls for a special type of mental discipline, more similar to my time in captivity than fighting with Voltron.

So the three of us build up routines and we stick to them. A large chunk of each day is lost to Keith and I either rough housing or aimlessly exploring our living island until we can navigate the once unfamiliar wilderness blindfolded. It’s honestly a lot of unproductive messing around but it seems to brighten Keith’s mood and it wouldn’t be right to say I didn’t look forward to the time as well.

As I grow older and my new body matures Keith starts getting more adventurous. We go further and stay out longer. He lets me help take down prey. It’s easier to sink his blade into the alien deer with six sets of eyes and plant-like protrusions mounted on their heads in place of antlers when I have my fangs dragging them down by the throat; it’s disturbingly instinctive to open my jaws and go for the jugular. We also start training together, mostly for combat but not always. It’s apparent that on some level Keith has fantasized about having a pet and he tries to slip in little tricks common to Earth dogs. Since it’s always pretty easy to figure out what Keith wants these sessions never last long and he quickly moves on to more practical things. In the span of a few weeks he’s instructed me to sit, shake and speak. At first the impromptu _lessons_ had been amusing really, they’re harmless and people have agreed to stranger things when bored. It’s just — I love Keith, really I do, but I draw the line at fetch. I don’t care if I’m a wolf now; I have my dignity to maintain. Plus, picking up random junk with my mouth is still slightly horrifying. So after Keith carefully explains that he wants me to go retrieve an object he’s going to repeatedly throw away again, I level him with a flat stare and don’t move a muscle as he sends a stick hurtling through the air and into the underbrush, only tilting my head just the slightest bit under his hopeful look. Thankfully, it doesn’t take too many iterations before Keith slumps in defeat.

I also discover a remarkable, new power; I can do it with a thought now. Keith nearly has a heart attack the first few times it happens. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be reborn into a body capable of teleportation. One moment I’m watching him run up to the little cave that’s become our temporary home and the next I’m perched on his chest, pinning him to the ground and looking down at his shocked face. With just a little focus I can warp to wherever I’m thinking so long as it’s not too far; I can even take people with me. I don’t know how I got this power or why I have it. It’s so similar to the function of the Black Lion’s wings but requires much less effort. Teleporting doesn’t drain my energy or require immense amounts of focus. It’s as easy as breathing.

After getting over the initial shock, Keith quickly starts incorporating the useful ability into our training. Soon even Krolia can’t fend off the both of us at once.

It’s during times like this, looking up at the distant stars and panting from the exertion of a good spar while Keith and Krolia chat amicably about forms and sword techniques, that I realize I’m feeling happier now than I have in a long, long time.

 

____________________________

 

 

It takes roughly two years but we do finally make it to the center of the Quantum Abyss. From what I’ve been able to glean from conversations between Keith and Krolia we’re here to investigate the distinctive quiescence readings originating from the source of the temporal anomalies. Coming into contact with the glowing white field surrounding the event is like stepping through a wormhole. It acts like a portal that drops us off at the front door of a barren red planet with a small moon caught in its orbit. The world is almost entirely uninhabited save for a solitary, unmarked facility.

Breaking in is laughably easy. There are no guards or security measures to speak of. Whoever built this place hasn’t been around in quite some time; the scents are all very old. There’s only one room that seems to be using any allocation of power and it’s mysteriously sealed off from the rest of the building. Not taking any chances, Krolia draws her blaster and Keith rests his hand over the Malmora blade before opening the door. Their precautions turn out to be unnecessary. Instead of danger we find a beautiful, green meadow dotted with wildflowers; rolling hills and the tall trees of a sprawling forest are visible in the distance. It doesn’t seem like any of it can be real, even if my stronger senses can determine the signs of life aren’t artificial. This place reminds me of the room Allura would go to speak with her father’s AI on the castle. It’s unclear if this is also a hologram or some breed of pocket space technology.

Further in we meet an Altean named Romelle. And does she have a story to tell.

After all this time getting some intel on what’s become of the rest of the paladins beyond the odd story or two Keith will share with his mother turns out to be almost more than my nerves can take. Apparently they’re working with the new Galran Emperor who’s been experimenting on and killing thousands of Alteans, all the while playing the benevolent altruist preaching unity and somehow managing to keep his whole operation under wraps. Allura and Coran are going to be crushed.

We have to find this other colony where so many Alteans have disappeared to. Krolia makes a good point, if Romelle’s brother was as bad off as she described it’s unlikely he would’ve been able to make a long flight; the second colony must be close. The moon is the most logical choice. Romelle leads us to a hanger housing the only ships her people have left; it’s full of Altean pods. They’re a bit older but otherwise almost identical to the ones aboard the castle. Keith has no difficulties flying one.

We end up finding the second colony on the moon, only it’s not a colony, it’s a lab. The walls are lined with large vats filled with shriveled Alteans completely drained of their quintessence. It’s a gruesome sight but it’s more than that making my hackles rise. My protective instincts flare with a visceral need to get to the others. The team is playing right into the hands of a madman without any idea of what he’s capable of. They have to be warned and Lotor must be stopped. I’m not alone in thinking so.

I can feel Keith’s anxiety and fear like a physical thing, but it’s dwarfed by anger and a powerful sense of purpose I’ve only ever witnessed in glimpses and flashes; it’s the type of unstoppable drive I’ve always known he was capable of. Together we’re going to protect our team.

 

____________________________

 

 

There’s an impostor in the castle.

It’s unsettling, coming face to face with my mirror image, who I used to be, surrounded by the very people I’ve come to see as family. He’s standing there like he belongs. Holding himself just like I used to, the imposter even operates like me, with my guarded expressions, my careful patience, and he’s been living my life all this time. Grasping the very notion that he is trusted, has sway over the paladin’s opinions and actions causes cold dread to spike painfully in my gut. I want it to not be real.

I always found it odd that Keith didn’t seem the slightest bit upset when he’d bring up stories about me to Krolia. It’s possible he didn’t know what had happened to me and I even considered the chances of him being separated from the others in the fight with Zarkon as well. I just never imagined this.

When Keith confronts the team about Lotor I hang back. For all that Keith and I have experienced, the others don’t appear to have changed one bit since I saw them last. They’re still so young. Keith’s warnings go largely unheeded; the others interrupt and demand inconsequential details. It’s surreal how powerful the urge is to open my mouth and console their doubts, usher their focus toward where it’s needed most. But the impostor is there, calming the others and even convincing Keith to forego his rash demands to pursue Lotor’s ship straight into the quintessence field. Everyone listens to the other me.

Keith is standing right next to it. I should be up there with him, between the paladins and whatever that thing is. Because there’s no way we can both be Shiro. And if one of us is fake I can’t imagine it means anything good. I’ve spent too much time in the hands of monsters like Haggar not to be able to imagine the possibilities a mole inside Voltron would present our enemies. I can’t let this threat stand. This team is comprised of more than just comrades; we’re pack, the animal in me insists. I’ll die before I let harm come to any one of them. And that has to mean something, all the battles we’ve fought, all the times we’ve supported each other in the face of desperate odds, everything we’ve been through. There’s so many memories, even if some of them aren’t _mine_.

The impostor quickly takes control of the situation, providing a sound plan of action that silences the more reckless proposals and cools the tempers in the room just like I would have – just like the me from the visions in the Abyss would have. How can I really know he’s the impostor? I don’t even know how I got this way.

I don’t have a tick to figure it out. Lotor returns and Allura reacts to the truth just as badly as I feared she would. Lotor is neutralized before he can even attempt to spin more of his lies but all chaos breaks lose anyway. The castle is infiltrated almost the moment the Galran goes down.

Identity issues are momentarily put on hold as I head down with Keith, Krolia and Pidge to deal with the intruders. We make it to the breached hanger but are almost immediately pinned down by heavy laser fire from a hostile fighter ship that doesn’t look Galran or like anything I’ve ever seen. Allura’s frantic voice comes over the castle’s comms claiming Shiro – the other one – has gone mad, he has Lotor and he’s running. It’s not much of a relief to have evidence that the other probably isn’t really Shiro. The witch has to be behind this and whatever she’s planning it’s happening now. In the ensuing confusion the impostor escapes with the Galran Emperor in a pod. None of us are able to stop him but the paladins recover quickly and take chase with Keith stepping up to pilot the Black Lion.

The Galra must have been busy since I left because from what I’m able to understand from the bridge Lotor’s ships are almost too much for Voltron, pushing around the most powerful weapon in the universe like it’s nothing. Then, in a stunt that has Haggar written all over it, the enemy ships are able to slip away through a wormhole. Keith is the only one that manages to follow. He’s giving his all chasing after an impostor he truly believes to be the man that’s had his back since the Garrison and I’m left behind, helpless to warn him of the ruse.

It’s unacceptable. I have to figure out some way to communicate with the others. What’s the point of making it all this way if I’m so _useless?_

A hand falls on my scalp, startling me out of my agitated pacing. Long digits stroke the white fur at the top of my head to garner my attention and steady my nerves. “Don’t fret, he’ll be back,” Krolia consoles in such a stern, matter of fact tone that I could almost believe her.

 

____________________________

 

 

There’s a sudden tug at the back of my mind. An old, familiar warmth seeps into my consciousness, tendrils branching out to snare my thoughts and turn my focus inward. Black is calling to me.

I panic, digging my feet in against the pull. It’s too much all at once and I’m left standing on the precipice, swaying over the tipping point between what’s now, physical and real and the intangible world between, indecision warring within. A part of me truly wants to reject the connection, like ducking away from a phantom blow. How I am now, I’m useless as a pilot anyway. But to run away from Black – The warm presence shifts, channeling a tandem of acute distress and a soul-weary sorrow. The lion draws on my memories and I’m reminded of the trust we built from a bond forged in the most dire of circumstance. I see through the lion’s eyes for the very first time, she shares her origins with me, lifts me from my waking nightmares and shores up my crumbling courage so that I have the strength to fight – to lead – and finally we fly as one, spreading Black’s wings out over the cosmos. Together we stood up to Zarkon himself; together we were whole. _Was everything we accomplished all for nothing? Didn’t it mean anything?_ I so desperately want it to. But after all this time the extra presence is almost like an invasion. Thoughts that aren’t mine try to persuade me but the last time I retreated into the bond I almost didn’t come back out and everything changed so completely out of my control. How can I just throw myself back in?

_Shiro?_

That voice. Keith, something’s wrong. That’s why Black’s here; wherever he is he needs my help. And no matter how much giving in terrifies me, in the end that’s all the convincing I’ll ever need. I reach out to him, following Black’s lead and putting all of my energy into meeting him halfway. _Keith?_

 _Where are you Shiro? Show yourself!_ Keith’s panic rallies against me, making it difficult to grab onto his consciousness.

We find each other in the infinite starscape of the astral plane. Keith is waiting and he looks scared. I catch just a glimpse of his freshest memories and experience his horror secondhand. The impostor had wanted to be followed. It had been a trap all along. _I’m here._

I try to manifest a form, something Keith can perceive, but it’s hard so far away from the lion. Eventually I manage, fashioning a body of incandescence and stardust now unobtainable outside this realm. I guess I still don’t really envision myself as a wolf even after all this time. My mind and soul are still human. _I know this must be confusing for you._

Keith startles at the sight of me. _What is this place? Where are we? Y – you were trying to kill me. The others! You – you said –_

It hurts, witnessing the fear and pain inflicted by my own face. I want to assure Keith, tell him how incredibly proud I am, but we don’t have much time; I can already feel the bond slipping. _I’m not here to harm you. Everyone is fine._

And it’s not a lie, thanks to Pidge. She was able to stop the virus my double uploaded into the castle but Keith still looks rattled. _Just let me explain. The thing that attacked you wasn’t me. I haven’t been with the team since my fight with Zarkon._

Keith’s eyes blow wide at the information. _When you disappeared?_

 _Yes, I didn’t understand what had happened or know how much time had passed._ Reuniting with the Black Lion fills in some of the blanks. I can feel an overwhelming sense of regret from Black. She couldn’t save me. _My physical form was gone. My consciousness was transferred. I died, Keith._

 _No! Shiro, you can’t –_ Keith reaches out to me, pleading. He looks agonized.

_Keith, you need to know –_

The connection breaks apart before I can get out the words. I don’t even get the chance to tell him that I’m still here, that I’ve been with him all this time.

It’s not until Lotor is beating down the rest of the lions, reveling in his true cruelty, that I feel the tug again. This time I dive into the bond without a second thought. Keith is coming but he’s too far away; he won’t make it to Voltron in time, not without help. The Black Lion can get him to the others. He just needs to see them with her eyes. It takes everything I have to hang on long enough to show Keith the way, but it’s enough. With all the paladins together working as a unit they can do this; they can win. Everything else can come later.

 

____________________________

 

 

We’re heading for Earth.

I should feel something. That would be normal, to look forward to seeing that familiar blue and green sphere orbiting third from the sun. I should long to run on the red Arizona hardpan, to have the abrasive sand pack down beneath my stride and welcome the hot breeze on my neck, to set my eyes on vast dessert horizons, sparkling, blue oceans and unique vistas that are all our own. We’re going home, but I don’t know that I think of it as home anymore. There’s been times I thought I’d never go back. To return there now – I guess home is wherever my family goes.

I just hope I’m not muzzled and caged again.

Setting out turns into a bit of an ordeal with the newest Red Paladin assigning passengers. Particularly displeased by the outcome, Allura refuses to let me near the Blue Lion’s cockpit and promptly locks me alone in the cargo hold. That stings a bit, if I’m being honest, but I realize I’ll probably be better off learning to accept this type of treatment as _normal_. The princess is not the only one who’s wary of me now. The warmth and comradery I once enjoyed with the others is almost entirely absent, which makes me wonder why Lance choose to separate me from Keith in the first place. Still, I’m grateful to be back. It will take time to regain the relationships I once knew, and while things may never be the same, I’m willing to earn their trust a thousand times over if that’s what it takes. Besides, I can’t blame them for the behavior. Right now everyone’s grieving.

Whatever Haggar did to wrest control from the clone must’ve destroyed his mind and without the more advanced, lifesaving technology of the castle the synthetic body follows soon after. No one is really able to explain it. Keith tells the others about what he saw in the Black Lion, how he spoke to me – the real me. Allura gets an idea and attempts to extract me with the abilities she gained in Oriande, thinking she can place my essence into the clone’s body.

If things had turned out differently it might have even worked, but I never get that tug at the back of my mind calling me to Black. I don’t experience any sort of pull as Allura strains and searches. She doesn’t find me and the clone doesn’t make it.

I don’t really know how to feel about that. I only knew the clone as an impostor, but the rest of the team, they lived and fought alongside him. They truly believed him to be their friend all this time and his betrayal and subsequent loss must rankle. With no evidence to the contrary, the others think they’ve lost us both.

What’s more, the battle with Lotor in the quintessence field results in severe consequences. Multiple growing rifts in the fabric of time and space threaten the very existence of all realities. There’s only one way to stop it.

It’s phenomenally unfair, but when has the universe ever been otherwise? The implosion of the teleduv seals the rifts and takes the Castle of Lions with it. Everyone is devastated by the loss. The castle has become something of a place of belonging for all of us. It’s where we decided to save the universe and where we learned we could be something more than ourselves. Without it Voltron has no support ship and we’re forced to fly severely depleted lions on a long and slow voyage to Earth.

“No, bad! Stop biting that! Put that belexium assembly down right now or so help me –”

Allura’s sporadic admonishments are about the only break in the monotony. Apparently gnawing on a, um, belexium assembly I think she called it, isn’t doing much for ingratiating me to the princess. Whoops.

That’s odd. I hadn’t actually meant to bite the thing. I just remember thinking it looked out of place, laid out on the floor like that. Despite being packed to the gills, the Blue Lion’s cargo hold is surprisingly well organized for how quickly the lions had to be loaded. I only intended to give the out of place equipment a cursory sniff before hopefully hunting down something a little more interesting to stare at for the next few ticks. Guess I’m hungry. Yeah, that’s it, instincts must’ve taken over. _Right._

Frankly, Allura’s lucky I’m not a _normal_ animal; otherwise I’d definitely still be chewing on the thing and whatever else I could get my jaws around as it appears to be the only way to get her attention. Though the next time the princess does patch the comms through to check on me I can pick out what sounds to be an off-key rendition of an alien alphabet song for small children, most likely Altean, before she cuts them off to see to something else. Small mercies I suppose.

Everyone does eventually tire of the passenger arrangements and I’m relocated to the Green Lion along with the mice, Coran and Romelle. It’s crowded and loud with the Altean’s fighting over Pidge’s video game controller, but at least I’m allowed in the cockpit this time. Pidge even stops staring at me like I’m going to bite her head off as soon as she turns her back after a few doboshes. It’s painstakingly slow but it’s progress.

 

____________________________

 

 

To the surprise of absolutely no one our voyage doesn’t remain peaceful for long and as Lance predicted something does eventually come along to try and kill us.

The pirates attack out of nowhere. They’re clearly hostile and force the paladins to make a mad scramble from the abandoned Blade base to get to their lions. It’s unfortunate we can’t put this threat out of commission. Normally a fleet this size would be no problem for Voltron, but with the lion’s power cores still so low it’s difficult for them to keep up with even normal fighter ships. The paladins are quickly mobbed.

With forming Voltron out of the question the only real option is to run, which usually leads to splitting up, a bad idea in everyone’s current state. Not only are the lions weakened but since the passenger swap many of the paladins are without backup in their lions. The Green Lion’s cockpit jerks roughly as she nearly collides with one of the pirates, throwing all her extra occupants to the floor with Coran nearly landing on top of me. The enemy ships are flying so close, less distance than I can warp – wait. The other lions, according to Green’s monitors they’re not too far.

It’s a crazy idea, the kind of spur of the moment, irresponsible stunt I’d usually scold the others for even considering, but it _could_ work. I’ll just have to be fast.

I take Coran first. He’s not going to be able to do much in this dogfight but he might have some ideas and the Black Lion is the closest thing we have to a command center at the moment; it also has the most hiding places if things go south. We make it to Black without a hitch and I go back for Romelle next. Allura has an unfortunate tendency to get a bit reckless when left to her own devices and Romelle’s proved to have a grounding presence similar to Hunk’s. After she’s safely aboard the Blue Lion I warp back to Green. Pidge welcomes me with the heads up for a bumpy ride. The pirates aren’t letting up but at least support is now more evenly distributed.

The paladins do end up splitting apart not long afterwards to throw off their pursuers in some conveniently located caverns. Things get hairy. Pidge and Lance aren’t able to shake the smaller ships on their tails in the tight tunnels and neither seem to be getting any sudden epiphanies on getting rid of them. It looks like it’s up to me then.

The enemy ships are still flying close, dangerously so. These are Galra fighters. I know the interior, maybe not as well as the lions, but more than enough for an accurate warp. To say the pilot is shocked to have a cosmic wolf teleport into his cockpit is putting it mildly. Staring the Galran pirate down, I think of opponents across the arena sands when I’d try to intimidate, sinking low into a ready crouch, lifting my lips in a nasty snarl, showing off the white of my teeth and growling – except now I really growl. The noise reverberates, rumbling deep in my chest, making me sound larger and more vicious. That’s all it takes. The pirate is terrified and leans as far back as he’s able and away from the ship’s controls. The fighter swerves to the right, disturbing the flight path of one of the other fighters and crashing into the tunnel walls. I move on to the next ship.

By the time I’m in the third fighter the last pirate knows something’s up, maybe even heard the screams of his comrades. He doesn’t cower like the others when I land on the console. Instead he’s got his blaster handy and he’s not trigger shy. In a blink the console’s left smoking and I’m ducked behind the pilot’s chair. There’s not much room in the ship’s cab and before I can reorient and get a sense of where the Lions are now the left wing nicks a hanging stalactite and the ship is exploding around me before I warp out. I stick the landing in Green with burns, bruises and singed fur but in one piece. Pidge even seems impressed until I practically collapse on the floor. _Ow_.

Okay, so maybe warping in and out of exploding ships isn’t the brightest idea I’ve had all quintant. But at least the Green and Blue Lions are safe for the moment. For now, I’ve bought them some time. The rest is up to the others.

 

____________________________

 

 

I keep expecting Keith to give me a name one of these days. After all, it’s usually the first order of business when one brings home an animal companion. Keith, however, seemingly has no intention of assigning one. He stubbornly sticks to boy with an occasional wolf or some variation. Maybe a name just isn’t something he feels is needed and whatever his reasons I find I don’t really mind so much. I’ve already got a name. Even if no one knows it, I’m still Shiro.

This doesn’t hold up so well after things settle down and my lack of a designation grabs the attention of the other paladins.

Hunk is the first to actually bring it up. After the incident with the space pirates the whole team is a bit more relaxed around me and the Yellow Paladin has come up with a creative use for my peculiar skill set. It’s how I end up in the Yellow Lion with a large satchel tied around my neck filled with Hunk’s latest burrito experiment and the promise of a helping of some kind of coral colored alien meat in exchange for ferrying the food to the other lions. It’s an easy job and my compliance immediately has him fumbling over how to offer up praise when he doesn’t know what to call me. He shares his dilemma over the comms and suggests the obvious solution.

Naturally, Keith protests, even going as far as to say that when I’m ready I’ll _tell_ him my name.

The others steamroll right along, dubbing me Kosmo and calling it a day. I suppose there are worse things than being named after the universe itself, but Keith’s obstinance has me thinking. Why would he believe I’m capable of telling him my name? He knows I can’t talk, no matter how badly I wish I could. It doesn’t make sense.

The more I fixate on this the more I have to wonder if maybe it’s just some crazy coincidence. It’s impossible for Keith to have realized who I really am. But it suddenly strikes me how oddly respectful Keith is toward me, even though by all rights he should consider me as a pet. It’s never really stood out to me before, maybe because we were alone for so long; Krolia’s actually not much different. In the Quantum Abyss it was just the three of us and we only had each other to interact with, so it’s understandable that they’d resort to talking to me as if I was an actual person just to keep sane. It’s not even too farfetched to believe they’ve noticed an intelligence in me beyond that of your average animal.

But we’re not isolated anymore and there’s a stark difference between Keith and his mother and how the other paladins treat me. Not that the rest of the team is overtly cruel or anything, it’s just that the two of them actually talk to me and consider my feelings. They don’t command me; they give me choices. I have to wonder, is it really so absurd for Keith to think I that I am a person, even if he doesn’t recognize me?

 

____________________________

 

 

A pained yip slips out between my bared teeth before I even think to stop it. The blast sends me reeling, my body spasming out of my control, caught in the familiar aftermath of druid lightning – or it should have been familiar. I’ve certainly experienced the ill effects of the druid’s attentions enough times in the past to be able to shake off the discomfort and continue the fight all in one breath. But for whatever reason my body isn’t getting with the program this time. My limbs are numb with agony, still twitching and shaky when I return to the fray. Each hit slows me down more than it should and as consequence Keith is left exposed for far too long. We’ll never win if I can’t keep up.

That’s when it hits me – this is the first time this body has ever experienced this level of pain. In this life I haven’t endured a year under the Galra’s less than tender mercies or fought in countless hard battles with Voltron. I haven’t had to deal with my muscles slowly quitting on me due to degenerative disease and my arm was never callously sawed off just to make room for a foreign weapon built with little consideration for its new host. I’ve never even faced Haggar or her druids. Which now that I think about it, would explain the last two years and change of being completely flashback free. What memories I have of those encounters are all still there, but the knee-jerk anxiety that usually accompanies them is far more distant. In a way, this is all new.

This revelation doesn’t make it any easier to power through and struggle back to my feet but Keith’s pained cries certainly lend the needed motivation. I have to be faster. The druid is far more experienced with teleportation and skilled at predicting our moves.

He’s coming in for another assault, appearing directly behind Keith and thrusting his sword down toward Keith’s back. In a flash I’m bodily shoving the shriveled, grey alien aside and drawing his attention. He strikes out with the lightning blast again, throwing me back into a row of metal pipes before I can warp out of range.

Keith cries out in frustration, charging in with his Malmora blade. But the druid is always one step ahead. He fades out of existence before Keith’s attack can connect and in the next instant he’s standing just behind Keith unleashing more of that awful lightning. Keith is knocked off his feet and straight into me. It’s a rough landing but I manage to warp us far enough away for a little breathing room. Not that it matters much with the druid warping in right after us, taunting us with manic laughter and self-assured in his victory.

But his overconfidence can also be his weakness. I warp Keith in close and he takes advantage, slashing out fast and deadly with his sword. The move is so quick the druid is actually forced to meet him blade for blade instead of slipping away with magic. Of course the druid doesn’t deflect more than two strikes before getting the drop on Keith by warping behind him and then in front in quick succession. I jump in to distract the druid but he just knocks me out of the way with another blast of lightning. It’s starting to look like nothing can stop this guy when Allura punches through the roof of the tunnel.

Pealing myself off the ground again seems to require more strength than I have left in me but at least we’ve managed to hold out till the others arrived. The princess must have figured out some way to transfer the energy from the druid’s trap and used it to get to us. Unfortunately, the rest of the paladins aren’t faring much better. In less than a minute the druid immobilizes almost the entire team before going straight for Keith.

But Keith is patient and ready. When the druid vanishes he reappears right where Keith wants him, with a Malmora blade piercing his heart. The druid disperses in an explosion of tainted quintessence like a miniature dying star and Keith’s sword clatters to the ground.

The relief is palpable among the team; that had been much too close for comfort. It’s a short time after the battle, when everyone’s come off the adrenaline high, that Allura approaches Keith and I. Her alchemy is the next best thing without the healing pods from the castle, though it’s not quite the same. She’s already done what she can for Kolivan. He’s in a bad way but he’ll live. The princess makes to go to Keith next only to have him wave her off.

“I’m fine, just a bit roughed up. This guy took a lot of hits for me. The lightning attacks seemed to really mess with him and he doesn’t have armor to protect him like we do.” Keith gestures toward me with a displeased frown and for a bizarre half second I’m curious if he’s actually entertaining the notion of remedying that.

Thankfully, Allura distracts me from any further concerns about being manhandled into some type of ridiculous canine space suit and gently places her hand on my head, mushing the white fur between my ears. “I see; would you mind if I took a look at you then?”

I can’t respond verbally beyond an encouraging half-bark and lean into her touch as nodding would likely dislodge her hand. This seems to please Allura. She starts stoking my fur, running her fingers in one smooth motion from the very top of my head down to the base of my neck. I’m indescribably glad she and the others have really given me a chance since the start of our journey to Earth. Ever since I’ve began helping out with little things like currying food for Hunk and assisting Lance with herding Kaltenecker they seem to have accepted me as a mascot of sorts. I know it’s far from ideal and that they’ll never look at me as the same person I was. But this, I can live with being wanted around.

“Alright, let’s see if I can help. The druids’ magic is not so different from Altean alchemy. Perhaps your wolf is sensitive to the effects on his quintessence.” She closes her eyes in concentration before her hands light up with the magical glow of alchemic power and she places them on either side of my face. I sense the energy building within me. It’s exploitative, probing at my wounds and getting a feel for my essence. Allura’s likely never tried to heal a creature like me, but after a tick she jerks back, like she’s found a particularly unpleasant anomaly. Something must not be right. Her eyes snap open in alarm and she looks down at me with a spark of recognition, like she knows.

“Shiro!”


End file.
